


the world is just as innocent as his freckles

by jeudefollie



Series: self quarantine and chill series-lams prompts [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens Fluff, Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys In Love, College, Dorks in Love, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pure Fluff cuz we all deserve it, Stressed John, also alex writing poems about john's freckles????, cute???????, idk how to tag i need sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:28:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23225560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeudefollie/pseuds/jeudefollie
Summary: "This said guy—Puerto-Rican-looking, freckles all over his face, dark circles under his soft eyes, potentially gay judging by the rainbow pin on his backpack, and so effortlessly pretty—who Alex had the habit to sit across in the library, had just passed out a minute ago onto his book."Based on the prompt "we were studying across from each other in the library not acknowledging each other for hours and you passed out and fell onto my book so i’m screwed" in which they are two stressed and overworked dorks in love.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: self quarantine and chill series-lams prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1669954
Comments: 15
Kudos: 140





	the world is just as innocent as his freckles

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! i hope you're doing well :)  
> i decided that with current world events, i would go back to writing my favorite boys!! i know that some people (such as myself) will tend to go read fanfics so they can forget about all the shit going on irl. i thought that i'd do my fair share and write more one shots for you all, lovely humans.
> 
> be safe and healthy, i wish you the best of luck during these rough times<33

Midterms were sucking the life out of John, quite literally. He would study until his brain couldn’t take information, study his ass off to pass his exams. On the contrary, Laf seemed so calm it felt fake. Even Hercules looked more stressed than ever, trying to handle both his internship and his workload. How could Lafayette look so confident, ready to overcome any obstacle, drinking wine on chaotic evenings and watching French movies loudly in their living room?

How could John survive this chaotic period without losing it completely? It looked as if he tried everything to reduce school-related stress; he bought himself a planner, filled it with all his deadlines (and some occasional doodles here and there), a pretty agenda, and even a white board for his room. Alas, it felt like it was impossible to achieve Laf’s level of I-Don’t-Care-About-Exams. He hardly slept at night, overthinking every little thing he’d done during the day.

Time was slipping through his fingers, and John was failing to control it in his advantage.

John struggled to teach himself what he missed in the last months. Tired, out of options, he decided to pack his books and his computer in his old backpack and stormed out to the library.

The first half of his improvised 9 pm study session went well, the caffeine kicking in at some point in the second half of the hour-long torture he was inflicting himself. At some point in his reading, a guy took the chair in front of him, and John pushed his books to leave some place for that cute guy.

John didn’t really know him personally, but he always saw the boy arguing in the school with anyone, always so loudly. And oh, that guy had something John couldn’t resist. Maybe it was the fire that filled his dark, brown-ish eyes when he knew he had just won the argument, or maybe his eloquence in debates. It could also be that kind, gentle smirk he would give John when they’d see each other in the library, on nights where dropping out seemed like the only good and rational option.

John liked the cute---no, hot--guy. And it could be that his impromptus library visits weren’t so random, including this one. He knew that by coming around these hours, John would surely see hot-as-fucking-fuck-library-guy studying by the table in the left corner, away from everyone, before moving to John’s table to study few hours more.

Nevertheless the whole crush thing over hot-as-fucking-fuck-library-guy, the fatigue took over around 11 PM. He could hardly keep on reading what was in front of him, blinking every few seconds for far too long, like micro naps. He didn’t know when he decided to close his eyes, but it felt so good. Perhaps a real nap wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

“Hey, uh, dude, are you okay?” whispered Alex, blood coming to his face making it blushing red.

Brown, curly hair was suddenly splattered all across his law book, Alex realized he was now screwed. This said guy—Puerto-Rican-looking, freckles all over his face, dark circles under his soft eyes, potentially gay judging by the rainbow pin on his backpack, and so effortlessly pretty—who Alex had the habit to sit across in the library, had just passed out a minute ago onto his book.

His left hand was trapped under that mess of curls now covering the entirety of the material he had been studying. 

Alex was taken by surprised, not expecting to be interrupted by such an event.

Poor guy must’ve been exhausted by the looks of his multiple bright colored post its taped on his planner, which included things such as “Ask Lee to DO HIS FUCKING PART OF THE ESSAY!!! (the fucking dick)”, “Finish Essay for English”, and “Return Peggs’ book (and ask herc do bring food)”

What was he supposed to do? Be mad at Freckles Boy for having needs, including sleep? Let this guy he occasionally spoke too (Iconic dialogues including “Do you mind me borrowing you this highlighter for a sec? Thanks”) sleep on what he desperately needed to read? What if he drooled all over the pages?

Oh well, how could he deny this (really fucking hot) guy a thing?

Reflecting for a second or two, Alexander decided to give the poor guy peace, letting him sleep, moved to get his computer so he could work on something else meanwhile.

With some difficulty, Alex wrote the last paragraph of one of the many essays due for the next week, trying his best to be as quiet as possible so Sleeping Beauty wouldn’t wake up. Typing with only one hand was definitely a challenge, as Alex didn’t want to move his hand, fearing that it would wake up Freckles on top of him---well not quite on top of him, but that was something that could be arranged.

Tired of typing with only one hand, Alexander saved the document to his computer, closing it and putting it to the side of the dark wood table. He decided to take a break from essays, switing to writing in his tiny notebook anything that went through his mind.

Reaching for headphones at the bottom of his jeans’ pockets, he plugged them in his old, shattered Iphone 6s, the sound of lofi-hip hop blocking the library’s occasional whispers.

Hot Sleepy Guy was still sleeping, looking so peaceful, so innocent. He took his pen, scribbled words as the inspiration slowly entered his brain, a thought at a time.

Freckles sprinkle the face of an innocent child

Like April rain showers

sprinkle the green grass with yellow flowers.

He walks across the grass with his little toes

like skipping stones on the summer lake.

To him the world is just as innocent as his freckles

and no one can hurt him.

Alexander paused, chewing on the end of his pen, anxiously peaking over to see if Freckles was waking up. Nothing yet. He continued:

This little boy is older now and the innocent freckles still remain

but he has come to learn the world is not as innocent as his freckles.

His world has turned cruel.

Who was Alexander to assume such things? Hypothetically, this guy’s life was not as horrible as his after all. Most likely, the scars covering his hands were not from fights, but simply bruises from a sport game.

_It’s just a poem, after all, not like it’s about the same guy I’ve been secretly crushing on for the last few months who’s now sleeping on my fucking book_ , he told himself.

He has seen hate, he has seen evil, and he has been hurt.

He sits and he wonders why his world changed

and why the world could not stay as innocent as his freckles.

Because even as he grew older

his freckles stayed just as innocent

and he wonders why his world could not have done the same.

Alex teared the page off the notebook, causing students to turn and stare at him for the loud sound, and a certain boy to wake up unexpectedly. Alex rapidly paused his music, taking his headphone off.

“Well, this is awkward …” John whispered, pushing is hair out of the way to see better the person next to him: hot-as-fucking-fuck-library-guy was the owner John had fell asleep on. Not even on his own fucking book.

John felt so horrible, _like the worst loser ever_. If that was not one of the top 10 uncomfortable moments in his life.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry dude, I completely blacked out, I’m so sorry-“ John quickly apologized, moving his hands anxiously as he tried to defend his cause. That had to be the most embarrassing thing ever.

“Hey hey hey, don’t sweat it. It’s okay, it happened to me too.” Alexander smiled, patting John’s shoulder to try to calm him. 

“Well thank god you understand. Not everyone on campus would react the way you did, let me tell you.” John chuckled. “Sorry, I never caught your name?”

“Alexander Hamilton, but you could call me Alex.” Alex smirked, offering his hand to John to shake. “Sorry, I'm terrible with names. What was it again?”

“John, John Laurens.” John blushed. Even when asking someone’s name, Alex had to be so extra, so cheesy and classy.

Alex leaned closer to John, almost too close to be purely platonic. “Hey, I know we just met---well not really, we always see each other in here but, could you make me a favor?”

John nodded quickly, his heart pounding as Alexander moved closer to him. Alexander got his phone out, handing it to John.

“I really don’t want tonight to be the last time you sleep on top of me. So could you please put your number in?”

Reflecting on it, falling on Alex’s book was probably the best thing he had ever done, well, after Alex himself.

**Author's Note:**

> poem by Michaela Tripp :))


End file.
